Friday, October 30, 2009

Today’s text

1 Peter 1:3-5

Blessed be God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who in his great mercy has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead and into a heritage that can never be spoilt or soiled and never fade away. It is reserved in heaven for you … .

Reflection

I don’t think much about heaven, my Lord, except at funerals when I must stand and speak … or listen myself for words of hope.

The rest of the time the idea seldom enters my mind, although I am more sure of it as the years pass. Perhaps it is because I am closer to the time when I, too, will be gathered to the parade of generations who have gone before, who have dwelt this earth, lived their lives and fallen away. I, too, will take my place.

When I think of this a strange love appears in my heart for that great multitude and especially for those whose faces quickly come to mind, especially my father. I miss him at this time of year as All Saints approaches; he is one of my saints.

I think he would be surprised to think that I hold him responsible for the faith that burns today in my heart. He faced his end with a doubting faith, and I could not take his doubts away. I could only love him, telling him that he should rest and let me believe for him. I wanted him to have utter assurance, but I doubt I was able to provide that at the end.

Still, he believed and hoped, and he knew, truly knew, the beauty of eternity, the treasure that doesn’t fade shining through this translucent world. He had few words for this. It fell to me to name that beauty for him, the beauty of sunrise and set, of hills and green, of cattle and living things scattered on hills beneath an everlasting blue sky of wonder.

And he gave this wonder to me, along with the intuition of a Heart from which such glory springs. That would be your heart, Dearest Friend.

You are that Heart of infinte generosity and love that shines through and stirs hope even in old dying men … and me.

So when I think of a heritage laid up for me I can imagine it only in terms of the love and hope I know here and now because of faces like my father’s and what they gave me, often without even knowing it.

What awaits is completion of what already is, and I have tasted enough to know there are some things for which I have no words.

So let my silence praise you.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Today’s text

1 Peter 1:3-4

Blessed be God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who in his great mercy has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead and into a heritage that can never be spoilt or soiled and never fade away.

Reflection

What is this lightness of being, this unbidden appearance of joy? It comes when I expected nothing, creeping unheard into my being. No signal marked its approach. I could not run to welcome the sunrise amid the night of soul of recent weeks.

Nothing sudden occurs, no great and shining moment, no reversal of fortune or deliverance from challenge. Nothing. But joy comes, welling within, lifting and filling the heart that it becomes, again, an engine of energy and gracious good will.

Hectoring inner voices fall silent. Their ghosts disappear, leaving no fear of their return.

Hope fills their place, and promise colors the day and each new encounter. Anticipation lives were avoidance and dread cast their dreary shadow.

There will be joy. There will be grace. This I know without knowing how I know.

Surely, I am deluded. But this freshness is as undeniable as the unrelenting sadness that had turned all days gray. I choose to deny neither. Honesty requires this much.

Strangely, there is no need in me to grasp this new birth that quietly appears from the grace of your Mystery. This is new.

I feel no desire to hold it fast lest it escape me, and I fall again into the darkness. My soul knows only rest and confidence. I have no idea what the day will bring. I know only the unwavering assurance that you will abide my being, unshakable and sure.

Darkness comes and darkness goes, but you abide, Holy One. New birth will come out of the darkness, and I cannot command its time.

“Patience,” you whisper. “The day will come.”

I can only await the sunrise, oppressed by the darkness, yes, but knowing the freshness of unspoilt morning will again be born in a time of your choosing.

Wait, trust, the day will come. Even now.

Pr. David L. Miller